Broken Bones and Broken Hearts
by HandleWithCare-Bea
Summary: Blaine is in Hospital. Kurt won't leave him and has to sit back and watch as they do what is necessary to make him better, even if it breaks his heart. Kurt is worried that Blaine wont be the same anymore, maybe he won't. Kurt has to face the reality.
1. Chapter 1

_**Broken Bones and Broken Hearts**_

_**Part One**_

_Beep…Beep…Beep_

I look at him. His face is bruised. His eyes are closed. There's blood in his dark curls and a dent in the side of his head. He is hardly breathing. What had they done to him?

_Beep…Beep...Beep._

The nurses are always hoping, hoping he will wake. They are hoping that they can turn the life-support off.

I am always waiting, waiting for him to wake. I'm waiting for him to open his eyes and see me.

_Beep…Beep…Beep_

A nurse walks in. I like her, she understands. She sits beside me and looks me in the eye.

"The doctor would like to talk to you. He promises your friend will get better. He just wants to have your consent before he does anything. He must be pretty important you; you haven't left his side since he arrived."

I nodded slowly, tears in my eyes.

"I'll send the doctor in."

She got up and walked out. She respected me. She had obviously asked the doctor to talk to me first; they normally don't ask for consent. They just go and bugger up the person and leave them for the family to sort out.

_Beep…Beep…Beep _

A doctor walks in. His face looks grave. He doesn't sit next to me like the nurse, but chooses to use the bed as a barrier and sits next to the life-support.

"Your friend has some serious head injuries. There are some pieces of skull that that could damage his brain, as well as a few cracked ribs and a broken arm. The ribs and the arm are normal issues, but it's the head injuries we're concerned about - we can push the bone back out so his head is more even. He is lucky that he can hide the scar under all that hair!"

He chuckled a little, the sound dull. I didn't get what was so funny about it. There would always be a slight dent in the side of his head. There would always be the scars, all 3 of them. What if they want to cut up more of him?

_Beep…Beep…Beep_

"Do I have your permission?"

I nodded.

What am I doing? Letting these people cut him open and hammer the inside of his head back to a normal shape. Letting these people take bits of bone out of him. Letting these people make him suffer more than he had already.

_Beep…Beep…Beep_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Broken Bones and Broken Hearts**_

_**Part Two**_

I practically ran back from the bath room, the door of our private room ajar. Had the surgeon already wheeled him off?

The bed is still there. The body is still on it. I'm no longer alone. The kind nurse is back with a man who looks surprisingly like Mr. Grumpy from the Mr. Men. As I walk slowly into the room, eyeing them suspiciously, the nurse carefully hides whatever she was holding behind her back. I feel like a lion coming back to a feast, only to find another lion has it. Something inside me wants to attack the poor lady.

The man isn't so kind. Just as I am sitting back in my defensive position next to the battered body, he takes something from the nurse. A razor. What is he doing? Why would that kind of person need a razor? It's not as if anyone in this room needs a shave. Then I realize: It isn't a razor. It's a pair of clippers. If they dare -

He turned them on. I couldn't watch. The nurse positioned herself so I couldn't see. Even though she stopped the view of the utterly barbaric behavior of the man, she couldn't stop me from seeing his mangled curls falling to the floor. The tears came in frozen rivers down my cheek. I looked at the nurse for support. She gave me a weak smile and then turned her back to give me privacy. She handed the man something else. I couldn't stop looking at the blood stained hair on the floor. Why,_ why_ had they done that? Are they trying to embarrass him? Are they mocking him in his weak and helpless state? Getting at him while he's powerless to stop them?

The man left the room. The nurse stayed. She bent down and pulled a sandwich from her bag. She handed it to me.

"You have to eat. He wouldn't want his pain to stop you from living. I know how you feel. I tried to tell them for you but it had to be done. It will grow back. It will look the same, I promise."

She walked towards the door, reinstating my view of the bed. I wish I could have screamed. Under the hair had been deep, glaring gashes. They where now agitated and bleeding from the clippers. Dried blood surrounded them but the cuts were too deep for only scabs. Not only had they taken away his hair, but they had marked out where they wanted to slice him open as well. These people where meant to be helping him! All I could think of was the time we watched _The Human Centipede_ together. Maybe all surgeons really are evil.

The nurse calmly left the room. She sensed that I would need some time alone.

I took one of his cold, limp hands. Why was it that it was always me in this situation? The person I love on a hospital bed and all I can ask for is for them to squeeze me hand and tell me it's all going to be okay. Now the room has settled, I could concentrate of the constant beeping of the life support machine.

_Beep…Beep…Beep._

I ate my sandwich with one hand, the other still clinging to his fingers. My eyes couldn't move away from the markings and cuts on his head. The head with the mouth I kissed. The head with the eyes that I now couldn't spend my whole day gazing into. As I stood up to go find a bin, my feet refused to move. They couldn't bear to tread on a lock of hair or jog the bed. It took anll my effort to force them to move, me to the door. I didn't want to leave him. I glance behind me. He's as still as a corpse but I know he is still alive.

_Beep…Beep…Beep_

The sound fades as I walk toward the kitchens to find a bin. My heart's racing. I hear wheels. I pivot on the spot. They are wheeling him. Wheeling his bed away from me.

Run.

I run towards the people taking him. Taking him away from me. But there's someone there. Someone holding me back. I lash out. I'm kicking. I'm hitting. People are staring. They take the body through some doors. The doors that are locked. The doors that you need a code to enter. I go limp. I come back to reality, I look up. The nurse is rubbing the side of her face. Shit. She was trying to help me. She was trying to make it better. I'd hurt her. I'd been blinded by anger.

I'm crying again. I turn and I throw my arms around her. I press my face into her shoulder. I can't hold in my pain. She doesn't push me away. She puts her hands on my back and comforts me.

"Shh, it's okay."

She walks me back to the room. She lets me walk into the corner and slump to the floor. I pull my knees under my chin, feeling completely drained of everything. She comes and sits next to me. She puts her arm around me.

The room is warm. I feel like stone, heavy and cold. My jumper seems to have lost all its use. The nurse reads my mind. She gets up and walks to a duffle bag. A duffle bag that I haven't noticed before now. She opens it and rummages. She pulls it out. His jumper. His favorite blue jumper. She passes it to me. I don't put it on. I hug it. I take in the scent; it relaxes me. I pull it over my head. It's far too big, but I don't care. I'm slipping away. I'm not fighting it. I fall into slumber. Where everything is normal. Where everything is calm. Just before I completely fall unconscious, I hear the soft thud of a door closing. The nurse has left me to enjoy my sleep while I can.


	3. Chapter 3

**Broken Bones And Broken Hearts**

**Part Three**

My neck hurts; the worst thing about waking up after sleeping in an awkward position. I haven't opened my eyes yet, though I can hear people whispering, whispering to each other. I listen. I listen hard. The words mean nothing. The words might as well not be words at all.

No beeping.

_The life support machine isn't beeping. _

I open my eyes a crack.

It's off.

I panic. No lights are flashing. The people leave the room. They aren't aware that I'm awake. They aren't aware of my fear.

But then I jump up, and the bed is back. I look at him, see him breathing. He is sleeping.

He is okay.

I walk to the door; I need to find out what's going on, but as I reach for the handle, it's already turning. Someone walks in. I don't know him. He is strange and new to me and he gestures for me to take a seat. The chair isn't as hard as it seemed to be yesterday. He tells me that they stitched up the wounds and sorted out his head. He says that he might have some trouble remembering things for a bit. I dismiss it; send the thoughts to the back of my mind. At least Blaine is okay.

He gets up and leaves and I move to sit by Blaine and take his hand. It's a little warmer. I kiss it and give it a squeeze, to which Blaine moves his head, lost in sleep. His movements are jagged. He has no flow. The door opens once again. The nurse is back, a bunch of papers in her hand. She comes over to sit by me, gives me the papers.

"These are for when he goes home, the medication and rules he will need. He will need a lot of rest. He's pretty fragile. He will need to stay away from sexual intercourse for a while; wait as long as you can before you two start – start doing anything again. You need to make sure he is mentally ready. We don't know what the consequences are going to be on his brain."

I'm nodding. It's a lot to take in right now.

Blaine shuffles again in his sleep. Both our heads turn to watch him. She gives me a quick smile before getting up and leaving the room. There is a small space on the bed next to Blaine's body. I kick of my shoes and climb onto the bed and snuggle down next to him. I breathe in what is left of his scent. I rest my tired head between into the crook of his neck and gently lay my head on his shoulder. My hand slips into his, and we lie there for what feels like hours. Just back by each others' sides. I'm just on the verge of sleep when a gentle squeeze to my hand quickly forces my eyes open.

I sit up, heart pounding. Blaine's eyes are open, gleaming and looking at my face. And he's smiling. He's awake. He's alive. And looking at me.

"Hey ,Kurt."

He laughs.

I laugh.

I relax, and I read over, and we embrace for what seems like the first time in years.


End file.
